


Fire, Ice

by Yessica



Series: Whumptober 2020 Yessica Edition [16]
Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Self-Hatred, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica
Summary: Carlos and Eric have a conversation in the Dcom bathroom about scars, and what it means to be an older brother.(Whumptober day 17 - Dirty secret)
Series: Whumptober 2020 Yessica Edition [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949233
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Fire, Ice

Eric had never felt this awkward in his life.

And coming from somebody used to working in customer service that meant a lot. The ice cream shop was different though, he could just force on a smile so hard it hurt while his mind wandered to other things. Now, all Eric had to distract himself from his own tensions was Mira.

Mira who had gotten this entire idea into her head in the first place. Sometimes Eric still wondered how she had managed to convince him to do anything out of his comfort zone – let alone join a psychological experiment decked out as a fake Mars mission. Eric would never have done this by himself.

But here he was, standing in the Dcom bathroom and staring at himself in the mirror. Was he paler than usual? Did he have bags under his eyes? He hoped Mira wouldn't notice, but it was hard to sleep surrounded by strangers. The tap water was too cold so Eric just let it run, hovering his hands over the sink and not paying it any mind. His thoughts were wandering again.

The door to the bathroom opened and closed, somebody took the sink next to his but he barely noticed that either until the other man cleared his throat.

"Eric, right?"

Maybe he had physically jumped, because the man looked genuinely guilty about startling him like that. Eric smiled at him, almost trying to shake hands out of force of habit before he realized they were still wet. "Uh, yeah. You are-" He trailed off, not having bothered really committing anybody's name to memory since they arrived yesterday.

"Carlos." The answer was accompanied by a disarming smile.

"Sorry I couldn't remember your name," Eric said awkwardly. "I'm kind of nervous."

Carlos started washing his face. "It's fine. This is all really strange, right?"

Eric shrugged. He could already tell Carlos was the kind of person others would easily like. Tall, handsome, charismatic – basically the exact opposite of himself. Peeking at him from the corner of his vision, Eric recalled their brief round of introductions when they met the crew. Carlos was a firefighter and it showed in his every angle, the squared back shoulders and straightened back. He was wearing a dark t-shirt and plain jeans, his hair still a bit messy because he just woke up.

Along his arms ran red marks Eric hadn't noticed before. They looked old and his eyes got caught on them involuntarily – making it hard to look away from them. Carlos must have felt him staring because he laughed as he started to dry off. "Battle scars," he joked.

With an uncomfortable swallow, Eric put his hands under the tap. The water was still too chilly for his liking, like melted snow. "From a fire?"

"From very long ago."

Eric was wearing long sleeves as usual. He made sure to only bring clothes that would cover his wrists completely, even at home he never wore anything else. It was embarrassing that in his mind he would have compared his own scars to those of Carlos. They were far less heroic in nature.

Far more self-inflicted.

A small buzz resounded in the bathroom and Carlos delved his phone from the pocket of his jeans to check the message he just received. He was smiling at the screen in a way all too familiar to Eric. "Your girlfriend?" he asked, eager to change the subject and hopefully ease the agitation his prying had probably caused.

Carlos typed a quick response. "My sister's caretaker."

Eric finally closed the tap when the tips of his fingers were starting to turn numb, the texture of the towel indiscernible from the lack of feeling.

"Maria. She's in the hospital." Turning the phone around, Carlos showed him a picture. The girl in it couldn't be more than ten years old, with blonde hair cut into a bob and the same pale green eyes as Carlos. "This is from when she was younger though. She's been in a coma for years now, I'm here to be able to afford her treatment."

"She's pretty."

The comment seemed to please Carlos, who looked at the picture with clear fondness. As he pushed his phone back into his pocket he waved his hand amiably. "What about you Eric, got any siblings?"

Nearly biting his tongue hard enough to taste blood, Eric hesitated. He covered it up by pretending to wipe his face with the damp towel. "Uh, yeah. I have a younger brother," he answered eventually. "Chris."

Just saying his name was like the choking of lake water in his lungs. The moon a bleached patch in the sky. It had been cloudy in Nebraska that night, blotting out the myriad of stars Eric was used to seeing in their rural area. Vaguely he remembered his mother pointing them out to him when he was little, her body warm against his as he sat on her lap. He couldn't catch what her face looked like – knew it only from faded photographs – but she smelled like peonies.

Carlos finally finished up his morning routine, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. "Just like me then, the older one. Big age difference?"

Chris had been barely two years younger than him. His hands were so small, the way they fit perfectly in Eric's palms. He had started elementary school a few weeks before the day he died.

The day Eric watched his father squeeze the life out of his younger brother's body.

He pulled down his sleeves a little more. "Not really."

"I bet your parents still expected you to look out for him though? It's always like that."

"Why do you two don't fucking look out for once!" His father smelled like alcohol and cigarettes. The smack sent Chris to the ground in a heap, sobs making his body shake. Eric stepped in front of him, daring the next strike to hit him instead. His father just scowled, his yellowed teeth standing out horrible in the dim twilight. "Get in the shower, we need to clean this up."

"Chris didn't mean to spill-" Eric tried to explain, but his father grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom so hard it hurt. Chris followed meekly, tears still streaming down his face – knowing from experience how much worse it could get if he dawdled.

Eric felt bad because as the older brother he was meant to protect Chris. But instead he dumped the body in the lake.

His fingers were clenching the ceramic sink so tightly he knew its shape would form indents in his skin. He prayed Carlos wouldn't notice, but to his relief the other was already leaving the room, giving him a short wave. Whatever else he had said was lost in the white noise of Eric's mind.

As soon as the door closed again, he rushed to the toilet. Breakfast had not been served yet and as a result, Eric didn't have anything to puke out. But he wretched anyway, feeling his entire body convulse with it. The hot wetness of tears was in his eyes but he forced himself to smile harder, wiping at them stubbornly.

He wasn't going to cry. Dad would never allow him to cry. He had been a bad brother.

Eric pushed himself up, checked the mirror to make sure his facial expression was still convincing enough. He inhaled once, held his breath until it burned in his lungs before exhaling.

Then he left the room, firm in his belief nothing bad had happened.

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](http://sharada-n.tumblr.com/)


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